Clippings

They stare at me, their arms outstretched towards the sky. The rain has helped them all it can. I cannot stand their pleadings any longer. I get out there with the shearers. Click, click, click around the creeping rose, click over the butterfly plants. More click and the ground covers are sheared. The garden paths, and edging boulders sigh with relief as they resurface from underneath unruly growth.

Sabina comes to my aid, and piles the clippings into the barrow. She holds on tight and guides the barrow towards the gate. "Come mama, I help you". She opens the gate, carefully eyeing off Tosca. "There is a wheelbarrow full of stuff - food? - in my paddock!", Tosca comes over with goofy curiosity. Despite careful sniffing, the goods of the barrow appear to be inedible. Tosca returns to her hay, we exit the paddock with caution. There are enough clippings for another barrow, or two, or three. And that's only half the garden!